


Cheating Day

by PinkAfroPuffs



Series: Fate/Beautiful Forest Hobo [5]
Category: Fate/EXTRA, Fate/Grand Order
Genre: F/M, Kissing, Mana Transfer, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-26 03:43:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20037349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkAfroPuffs/pseuds/PinkAfroPuffs
Summary: Unfair. So many things in life had been unfair, but maybe he could have this-





	Cheating Day

**Author's Note:**

> (:

It happens in an instant, so quickly that he almost doesn’t feel it; pain shoots through the entire right side of his body, crackling from his shoulder down to his knees. Before he registers it he’s on the ground, wincing. “Shit.”

As soon as he falls, it’s done. The last blow has been dealt and they can head back home. Still, as he struggles to his feet, there’s the sound of crunching grass and hands are on him. Then Master shouts, “Rayshift us _ now _!”

He _ does _ feel weak, but he thinks it’s not a big deal. Especially for her to teleport just the two of them out of there like that. “Master,” he begins, but she’s already flipping through her book of Master-Servant contracts.

“I can give you mana,” she says, her voice a little shaky, but it’s clear she doesn’t know how it’s done. He wishes he had better endurance. Maybe then this sort of thing wouldn’t have happened so easily.

“I’ll heal over time,” he partially lies, but it’s mostly to set her at ease. She seems to be ignoring him, though, because she finds the page she’s looking for. 

“It says I have to exchange-” She breaks off, almost like the words are stuck in her throat. He’s aware of the semantics despite never having mana transferred to him this way, so he just shakes his head. “...fluids. With you.”

“Don’t have to.” He looks off to the side, towards the kitchen area, and even though his knees feel a little weak, it’s nothing a nap and a ton of food can’t fix. “Master, I’ll be fine.”

“Shh!” She half-shouts. “Just…just shut up for a moment.” She pushes her palm against her temple, pushing back her hair just a bit in frustration. Then, “Close your eyes.”

He’s surprised. In fact, he’s so surprised that he finds himself teasing, “You just sound like you’re looking for an excuse to-”

Her fingers pull gently on his cloak to move him closer to her; he laments that the situation is not as nice as he would have hoped for something like this, and a part of him can’t help thinking it’s all he deserves. Inches away from her face, her mouth, the sweet smell of her skin, he can’t help feeling a little helpless. He could say no more adamantly, but does he want to? 

“It’s okay,” she murmurs. “If you let me, it’s okay.”

_ If _ he let her. “...alright. If you say so, Master.” He punctuates it to draw a line, that the action will only be done out of necessity and not pleasure, but his intentions fly out of his head as they draw closer still, and her lips brush his.

This isn’t the kind of kiss that can give him the mana he needs. Both of them seem to know it, but the hesitation speaks for itself; he’s made the mistake already, by trying to draw a line in the sand he’s already stepping on, and now she’s even more nervous about an action that is _ strictly _ business. She draws back, too, a little confused, somewhat doubting her own intentions, and urgency pulls at his stomach, blood roaring in his ears. 

“I won’t get anything that way,” he mutters, and he _ wants _ it to sound like he’s teasing, but he can’t. He’s too focused on her mouth, his brain already making up ideas about how she tastes, his fingers moving long before the rest of him can. 

When their lips meet again, he can’t help his thumb cradling her cheek, careful as he tests her first with soft, closed mouth kisses. It’s agonizing. His brain rationalizes that he’s too fast and too slow all at once, and he begins deepening the kiss, slowly, gently. It doesn’t occur to him that he’s savoring her mouth until she gasps into his, her fingers tightening around his cloak. A surge of energy shoots through him, though he doesn’t have the brain capacity to question if it’s the mana or simply his own self-consciousness about touching her this way. 

A noise in the background allows him to regain his senses, and he pulls back carefully; he wouldn’t want to offend her, or make her think he thought she was simply bad at her “job” after working so hard at it. “...I think that’s enough,” he whispers, though he knows no one is around to hear either of them.

It’s hot. The air between them feels somewhat sticky and he can’t help feeling he’s begun something he shouldn’t finish. Her fingers reach up to touch his face, and at first he flinches, unsure of what she’s seeing that he hasn’t. Then, “You still look hurt to me.”

Ah. The cut on his cheek that stings when the air hits it. A little laugh escapes him. “I do, huh?” 

“Mmhm,” she murmurs, and then her hands are cupping his face. “Come here.”

He wants to tell her she’s the boss, but he’s sure she knows it. Even if she wasn’t his master, he’d be wrapped around her finger, a child’s plaything in her capable hands. “You’re greedy, Master,” he half-gripes, but resisting a lovely maiden is for demigods and monsters, not a petty bowman. 

“I know,” her fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck, and he can’t help but feel delighted when she moves forward to sit in his lap. 

* * *

He goes to bother her rather early the next day, though he does so while cradling a cup of coffee in her favorite mug, his hood up in case someone notices. Usually a mana transfer meant the mage in question might be a little tired afterward, but Ifumi is not a mage, and she gave him more than he wanted. The concoction is a light brown, with four sugars and four creams, and when he finds his way to her room, the light is on, but she’s still in bed. 

Robin Hood doesn’t bother to wake her. He sets the mug and a breakfast bar he stole from Gawain on the desk beside her bed, checks the time- nine o’clock- and then leaves to find breakfast for himself. 

There’s something different about the air today. Coolly, he snags an apple from one of the fruit baskets on the opposite site of the kitchen where Emiya is preparing another meal before he heads outside to where his favorite tree is. 

He takes a seat beneath it instead of in the branches today; the moment he’s comfortable, he finds himself looking at his own reflection in the shine of the apple. It isn’t as good as a standard mirror might be, but it gives him a good enough look at his clear complexion.

_ “You still look hurt to me. _”

He presses the apple to his lips, not quite biting into it and not quite registering its texture, and then his hand drops into his lap. Fingers drum against his outstretched leg and he finally takes a bite, shaking his head as he pushes back his bangs with his palm and keeps them there. It’s hot again, the sting so irritating he squeezes his eyes shut. 

He pulls up his hood and leans back against the trunk of the tree with an agonized sigh, the hand holding his apple lazily lolling over his leg. Shameful. He isn’t fit to be seen like this.


End file.
